


Archie in The East End

by Tiz



Series: Spies and Lovers [2]
Category: England Series - K. J. Charles, Think of England - K. J. Charles
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, M/M, Meet the Family, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25730917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiz/pseuds/Tiz
Summary: Archie and Daniel take refuge in Daniel's family home.Daniel survived Cambridge, Peakholme, and much more as a Secret Agent. But this? This is a whole new level.
Relationships: Archie Curtis/Daniel da Silva
Series: Spies and Lovers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869622
Comments: 14
Kudos: 44





	Archie in The East End

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I am sorry, work is unbetaed and I found nobody who is actually jewish to help me with it, so if you are and find any mistake, please let me know!

There had been moments, in Daniel da Silva's life, in which he had wondered quite how he ended up in this, precise, particular situation.

The unpleasant list included two instances of imprisonment, one of which in an appalling limestone cave which still made him shudder to think about, that mortifying time in front of the Dean of Cambridge, and several others.

This particular one was not in the top ten of horrid experiences, but Daniel was wondering if it could be, say, the eleventh.

Archie was nodding at his mother's crisp instructions. And moving tables.

Archie Curtis, war hero, explorer nephew, one of England's Good Chaps, was carrying a table in an east-end billiard hall that Daniel’s uncle owned and operated. One of the children of said uncle, his cousin David with whom he shared tastes and absolutely nothing else, was looking at Archie appraisingly.

The glamorous life of the Secret Agent.

It had started innocently enough. Or, at least, as innocently as a job for a secret agent or two could be: they were stalking a rather enterprising smuggler in the East End. Said smuggler was, apparently, ferrying more than just good French brandy around the Channel.

Really he should have stuck at brandy.

Daniel was not quite sure how it had ended up in his family billiard hall. Something about the smuggler’s good friends taking umbrage and having to duck away. Fast. From people with guns. Daniel abhorred guns, especially when pointed at him.

Or Archie.

That was the part he understood. What particular brain imbalance had made him led Archie toward home was harder to pinpoint.

Homing instinct perhaps.

So now here he was. Archie, who was “undercover”, which is to mean… well. Dressed like an East End man.

It did absolutely nothing to make him less conspicuous. Nothing.

His mother had seized the situation and looked at him in a way that made the flow of excuses and lies dry at the source. 

Then Archie Curtis had walked to her, given her his right hand, and, in perfect glass-cut vowels, introduced himself. 

Scratch what was written above. This was very well the ninth in the list.

__

“ _ Where _ have you found him?”

Daniel hissed at David in a way that would have made Archie compare him with a snake, which should not be a fond nickname but here he was.

David, thirty-four, an accomplished carpenter and as much an avowed invert as Daniel, was unruffed.

“Come on, Daniel. He is amazing. That hair and muscles! I bet he has an enormous….”

“Yes thank you, David. I  **get** your meaning.” 

David grinned. He shared with Daniel the dark skin and hair, aside from the general slender build, but he was several inches shorter and had startlingly pale grey eyes. He had an air of frailty which was completely incorrect but which was attractive to a certain sort of man.

Daniel wondered if Archie was that sort of man. 

“Perhaps I could convince Aunt Ruth to move the billiard tables…” 

Daniel blinked, looking at David's speculative face, and could follow his cousin's train of thought like a book. And it was a big book, full of the kind of illustrations that sends one to gaol. It started with Archie moving incredibly heavy billiard tables and ended with Archie...

“You will not attempt to have Archie shed his shirt.” His tone was stern and prim. David grinned again. 

“Come on, cousin. Sharing is caring.”

“David, if you even make an attempt at him, I will tell your mother about what really happened at Seder in 1882.”

David’s smile dimmed. He frowned.

“You would not dare.”

“Try me.”

David glared at him. Daniel glared back. His irrepressible cousin sighed and shrugged, trotting away to help with the moving.

Daniel turned to Archie. He was, he had to admit, a rather fine sight. He was in his shirtsleeves, with his sleeves rolled up to show his strong forearms. His leather gloves were a bit incongruous, but Daniel hardly noticed them anymore.

He put his hip to the door, and proceeded to watch.

It was… absurd. That Archie was here. That he was helping his mother rearrange furniture like it was nothing. 

… Lord Ashgrove wouldn’t have been caught dead helping a billiard hall mistress to move stuff around.

Daniel shook his head. Not conducive to the present situation. Now, what he should be thinking about is about when and how they could leave, as soon as possible, without incurring the risk of meeting their previous “friends” and even more so…

His mother smiled at him, and nodded.

“I hope you and your friend will stay for dinner, Daniel.” This was, in no way, a question.

Daniel took several years of rigourous self-training to smile at his mother without groaning.

No way to leave soon without giving offence.

He glanced at Archie, who was listening to something his uncle was saying as he brandished a billiard cue with all the intensity he gave to, basically, everything.

David was still ogling at him.

Mentally, Daniel revisited the list. Seventh. At least, seventh.

__

If it was a less personal moment, Daniel would have easily been able to see the humor in the situation. As it was, it felt like his chaircushion was made of needles.

To recap: Archie, War Hero, Explorer Nephew's, Heir To a Baronetcy (that had been an interesting discussion), etcetera etcetera, was sitting at his family table, very politely listening to his father as he recited the blessing over bread. Archie had his blond head respectfully bowed, so he couldn’t see the general * **looks** * that were given in his direction.

In all honesty, he probably wouldn’t have noticed them anyhow. 

Daniel, however, did notice. And by the look of it, he wasn’t the only one in his family currently sitting on metaphorical needles. He was sure there was a poem here somewhere, but he was not in the damn mood.

Archie did not, could not, understand. 

The prayer ended, and they shared the food. Daniel was sure it was good, because his mother’s food was always good, but he couldn’t remember what it was, nor what they talked about. Archie kept his impeccable manner and absolute respect for everybody all through the meal.

He called Bruno da Silva “sir” and Ruth da Silva “Ma’am” All. The. Time. And without a shrivel of irony.

He had an interesting discussion with his uncle Isaac, the tailor, on the new fashion. Uncle Isaac talked. Archie meekly listened and asked if Mr da Silva would mind making a couple of evening suits for him. Uncle Isaac choked on his potato soup.

Archie gave one of his blinding smiles to his father, and asked Bruno da Silva his opinions on skeleton keys. The whole table groaned. Bruno da Silva laughed and launched in his very well rehearsed tirade against them. Archie recounted the “humourous episode” on how he tried to open his own (ah!) archive door with skeleton keys after he lost the keys themselves. The table laughed.

At some points in some way the conversation devolved into boxing (Daniel was not sure how. It was one of Archie’s tricks) and Archie mentioned the work he was doing in the free gymnasium. Uncle Samuel, the billiardist, said he would send his younger son there, and Daniel lost the thread of the conversation.

Some unspecified time later, Daniel found himself out of his family’s door, with a scarf he was pretty sure he hadn’t come in with around his neck, and his mother putting another scarf he was positive Archie had not come in with around Archie’s own neck.

David, the accursed one, was putting his own jacket on whilst still glancing speculatively at Archie

In lieu of anything better to do, Daniel decided to glare at David. He expected a glare back, or a quick grin, and it was one of the many, many absurd happenings of the evening that instead his cousin looked at him soberly.

“You are lucky, you know that?”

“I do” It was heartfelt, and true, and made Daniel cringe. But David just nodded.

Ten minutes later, he was walking with Archie away from the East End, and the absurd evening. It had been perfect. And horrible.

Archie glanced at him, his breath condensing in the chill air.

“... Did I do something wrong?”

Archie Curtis, War Hero, Explorer etcetera etcetera, had two modes: completely clueless or absolutely insightful. No inbetween. It charmed Daniel as much as it made him want to rip his hair off.

Daniel sighed. 

“N...noo. Not as such. No.” He hadn’t. That was what made this so hard. “... You can’t understand.”

As soon as he spoke, Daniel bit his lips and felt his own shoulders tense. You do not say those things. Ever. Daniel had a whole script on how this conversation would go, he had had it at University and before for far, far less…

“You are right. I can’t understand.”

Daniel stopped, and Archie stopped with him. There was a lamplight, because apparently his life was a Dickens’ novel now. He bloody hated Dickens. 

But the light shone on Archie’s blond hair, and made his eyes look like what he imagined the mediteranean sea would look like on a sunny day off the coast of Capri.

Love had a terrible, terrible influence on him.

He breathed out.

“...What?” Because he couldn’t leave a miracle well enough alone. He had to probe, curse him.

“I can’t understand.” Archie’s voice was slow, and thoughtful, and he looked at Daniel as if he had never seen him before. 

Perhaps he hadn’t. Not like this.

“But I can…” A pause. He was frowning, as if searching for words. Words weren’t Archie’s strong suits, after all. 

Actions were. Like helping move furniture. Like coming to dinner, and listening to his family, and making them laugh.

Daniel’s eyes were already prickling, curse the orbs.

… Love really had a terrible influence on him.

“I can respect, can’t I?”

Daniel blinked, and he would have swore to his last breath that those weren’t tears. The fog went into his eyes, that’s all. East end fog was not to be trifled with.

“Yes” He breathed out. “I… suppose you can.”

Archie smiled at him, his blinding smile, and Daniel’s own mirrored him like the ocean mirror the sun.

“Well, let’s go home, shall we?” He added, briskly, because there was only so much maudling that he could stomach in one given evening after all.

Archie grinned and nodded, and if the World had been fair, he, Daniel da Silva, would have reached for his man’s hand and gripped it all the way to thei… Archie’s flat. 

The World was not fair, and so he buried his hands in his pockets. But he was walking step to step with Archie and, somehow, this was enough.


End file.
